The ‘mother’ I refer to in this story is not my biological mother – she was actually a friend of mine in high school who sort of took me ‘under her wing’. Her name was Danna, and she had this nurturing yet firm way about her that made me feel both safe and accountable.
We were on the big coach on our way for our school music department’s annual music tour. This year, we were going to have fun – I had many more friends than last year, and I had my mother there with me. The excitement was palpable, the air buzzing with the chatter and laughter of students eager for the adventure ahead.
My friend Jen and I were sitting at the back of the bus. My mother and Ray, her boyfriend, were sitting in the two seats ahead of us. Things were going pretty well until Jen and I started getting a little bit hyper. We started swearing about every second word, our voices rising above the hum of the bus engine.
My mother isn’t one to be hypocritical so at first she didn’t say anything and just figured that we’d calm down soon enough. Boy, was she wrong! Jen and I continued like that until the next rest stop, our laughter echoing through the bus.
I decided that I was going to get off and get a Diet Pepsi. But my mother had other plans – she sent Ray and Jen off to get the pop so that we could be alone for a few minutes. I could see the concern in her eyes, a mix of disappointment and determination.
She came and sat next to me. “Sweetie, I know you’re just having fun and you’re excited but there’s no need for that kind of language, OK?” Her voice was gentle but firm, a tone that always made me listen. “OK, mother –sorry.” “It’s OK but consider yourself warned. Next time, you’ll be over my lap! Got it?” “Yes ma’am,” I mumbled, feeling a twinge of guilt.
My mother had never really spanked me. I mean, yeah, sure she’d swat my backside sometimes to get my attention. And she even slapped my face lightly from time to time – but never a real spanking, so the warning really didn’t click in too much. I thought she was just trying to scare me into behaving.
When Jen got back on the bus, we just kind of relaxed for a bit and acted pretty mellow. But about 15 minutes later we were back to our old selves again and swearing our heads off. I didn’t notice at the time, but my mother was getting madder and madder. Her face was turning a shade of red I had never seen before.
“Danna, cool down,” Ray kept whispering to her. Hoping like hell it would work. By the time we got to our destination, she was furious. We went to our cabin to unpack. My mother pulled me aside, her grip on my arm firm but not painful.
“They’re going to gather everyone in the lobby in about five minutes just to take attendance and talk about dinner plans. I told them not to expect us so when everyone else leaves, don’t you dare go anywhere – got it?” “Why can’t I go?” I asked, my voice tinged with defiance. “Because I need to discuss a problem with you and your butt!” Her words were sharp, leaving no room for argument.
With that, she turned and left the room to tell the others where to go. My mother returned five minutes later with a sour look on her face. Everyone had left. We were alone in the cabin. The silence was deafening, the tension thick in the air.
“Now, young lady, would you mind telling me what part of ‘don’t swear’ you didn’t understand? Hm?” “I’m sorry, mother, honest I am” I pleaded, my voice trembling. “Good – I’m glad that you’re sorry, but that doesn’t change the fact that you did it and that you need to be taught a lesson.”
“So what, now I’m grounded for the rest of the tour?” I asked, trying to mask my fear with sarcasm. “No, you’re not grounded except for tonight – you must be in bed by no later than 10.” “But mother!” I protested, my heart pounding. “Don’t you ‘but mother’ me, young lady. Now, get over here right now.”
She sat down on the bed across the room from me. I walked over and stood next to her, my legs feeling like jelly. “Now lay over my lap,” she commanded. “mother!” I said, shocked, “You can’t honestly be thinking of spanking me!” “You’re darn right I am – now get over here!” “I won’t!” I yelled “I refuse. And you can’t make me!” I felt an overwhelming sense of power, a defiance that surged through me.
But not for long. “Young lady, you’re gonna regret that move.” With that, she yanked me over her lap and started spanking me over my cotton pants. The first few swats were more shocking than painful, a sharp sting that made me gasp. The sound of her hand connecting with my backside echoed in the small cabin, each smack punctuated by the rustle of fabric and my own startled breaths. At first, I tried to hold back any reaction, biting my lip and squeezing my eyes shut, but the sting quickly built into a burning ache. My face flushed hot with embarrassment and my eyes began to water, not just from the pain but from the humiliation of being treated like a child. The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with the scent of laundry detergent and the faint mustiness of the cabin.
